


prince of gotham

by nightiebirdie



Series: idiot man-child(ren) [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: BAMF Dick Grayson, BAMF Jason Todd, Brotherly Love, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Concussions, Daddy Issues, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a Better Parent Than Bruce Wayne, Drinking to Cope, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gotham City is Terrible, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Jason Todd Has Parental Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, No Slash, Nursing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Siblings, Recovery, Smoking, Temporary Character Death, Worldbuilding, because, but i wouldnt call him a terrible parent, but that's canon anyways, im not sorry at all :|, love that, oop..., or maybe thats just, this is not a safe place for jaydick shippers btw :), yup yup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29553753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightiebirdie/pseuds/nightiebirdie
Summary: In which Jason (in his red hood costume, nonetheless) gets saved by his...brother in Blüdhaven, beaten and bloodied and- ohmygodjasonwhattheACTUALfuck- is that a head wound?~~~~~~~~~~~~~Jason gets hurt and then recovers, stronger than ever. in more ways than physical.(this sounds so corny PLZ)
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: idiot man-child(ren) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157420
Kudos: 26





	prince of gotham

**Author's Note:**

> i was really bored so i decided to write this (the first draft) at like 2 in the morning on a friday... 
> 
> btw- there is a character vomiting and mentions of it :\

A shiver racked through his spine like a bolt of lightning, running through a metal pole. 

The sky shook with all but the force of a god, lighting up with streaks of hot, blinding fire.

Jason had got caught in an alleyway at the wrong time. 

Well, actually, this was such a frequent occurrence that to call it that would be misleading but, you know, it’s whatever.

Blockbuster had come after him as if he was going to devour him whole like a snake unhinging his jaw.

A hiss escaped through clenched teeth as he nearly tripped over the sidewalk. Damn, he could feel his brain rattling around in his skull.

But back to the story.

He took a pipe to the skull. And then the stomach. Like a decently sized, steel pipe. Jason wasn’t taking the fight as seriously as he should’ve, his thoughts were, preoccupied.

It hurt and, shit, was that blood?

Jason gingerly touched the back of his head to reveal his blood-covered fingers.  _ Nice _ .

He toddled down the street, holding his bleeding head. The streets were empty for the most part except for the odd clatter of movement in an alleyway or a scamper through the shadows.

Jason won the scrimmage- obviously- but at what cost?

He had a head injury, it was nighttime (Blüdhaven was  _ filthy _ , and in more ways than one), and he was soaked to the bone which meant he was nearly freezing. And his mask was broken. It had shattered into pieces.

  
  


There was a crash in the alley Jason was walking by and he flinched, his guard so far down, someone could get right behind him and he wouldn’t notice until right then.

Apparently, being startled was the wrong thing to do, according to his body, because between then and the 30 seconds after him being startled, he’d fallen over and onto the wet sidewalk. Thankfully, Jason’s head wound was covered before he had.

Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Jason’s adrenaline was finally wearing out. He could feel it in the way his limbs were sluggish and the way his head pounded like a drum in a marching band.

Great. Now he’d probably be killed where he stood (or rather laid, hardee har) by some petty criminal, all because of his own idiocy.

A shadowy figure appeared in the alley.

“ _ Artemis _ ?” Jason rasped into the darkness. No, that couldn’t be her, she’d gone to Themyscira. 

Something about the fulfillment of a prophecy. One that didn’t involve Jason. Or Bizarro.

He strained, causing his eyelids to droop faster. The figure called out to him, but all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and the icy feeling of blood loss.

Jason laid there, too drained to fight or move.

Death. He could feel it,  _ her _ , deep in his bones. Her arrival.

He shivered, and not just from the cold.

Truth be told, Jason  _ was _ afraid. He didn’t  _ want _ to die right now.

The first time had hurt like nothing else he could ever experience in his life. A brutal beating from the Joker with a rusty crowbar, caked in blood that wasn’t his. 

The metal felt like a whip, yet also a knife, cutting into pallid skin and hitting bone so hard Jason could hear them crunch over his shrieks of agony.

And the bomb, the final nail in the, his, coffin, so to speak.

Hot pain like flames dancing across skin and then searing and- god, he could smell himself burning,  _ cooking, _ for a long,  _ nauseating _ second, then there was nothing.

It was cold and he was dead. Dead, dead,  _ dead, deaddeaddead _

The  _ thought _ of it made Jason gag.

The actual dying part lasted 5 seconds (the beating many more)but he’d been through it once and he never wanted to go through that again.

Not like this at least, death  _ was _ inevitable. 

At the rate he was going, Jason would probably end up dead in some alley, bleeding out with no one to…

Oh. That sounded a lot like what was happening now.

Apparently, his body had the energy to tear up and stream tears down his face, nearly undetectable with rain except for the burn in his eyes.

And it may sound narcissistic, but he deserved better.

Much better.

The sole thing running through Jason’s mind was one of the only things he remembers vividly from his godforsaken childhood, from his father.

“Jason, you  _ will _ be the prince of Gotham, my boy.”

Willis Todd was a shit person and an even shittier father and husband.

Jason would like to say that he despised the man and he didn’t have any influence on Jason, but he knows that’s not true,  _ goddamnit _ , as much as he hated to admit it.

Willis still had a part in Jason’s upbringing. And Jason had a small emotional attachment.

But about this, as Willis was about a lot of things, he was wrong.

Jason wasn’t the prince of anything except maybe guilt, alcohol, and chain-smoking.

Jason tried for years to develop that seed, that  _ dream _ , to foster that seed into fruition to no avail. He was no prince, he was more like a knight.

Blindly loyal, even in anger.

Jason was far from a good person. He knew that very well. But fight was all he’d ever done and giving up wasn’t quite his style.

A hand reached under Jason and he strained to see if he could identify anything before he went limp. He could feel it encroaching on his vision.

A blur of midnight black and then the Void, a cold place so familiar he could call it a second home.

A hum of a TV greeted Jason as he awoke, startled. There was a couch under him and a blanket over him. 

Someone coughed in the corner of the room, sending Jason’s gaze shooting in their direction.

“What’sa?” Jason rubbed his nasal bridge and he propped himself up on the ugly green couch. He moved too fast and he could feel his brain rebelling.

The room was filled with early golden sunlight which made his head spin.

“Water?” The person still hadn’t revealed themselves, opting to face the wall like some sort of weirdo.

“Yeah- ack, that’d be nice. And if you could maybe tell me who the fuck you are.” Jason coughed out.

They didn’t reply, opting to sigh instead.

Jason shut his eyes to block out the unneeded light. He could never get used to photophobia. Light pierced his eyes like needles.

He shot up off the couch as soon as he finally noticed his guns were nowhere to be found. And the clothes Jason had been placed in were at least 2 sizes too small.

An acrid burn at the back of his throat was all the warning he got before Jason was vomiting on the hardwood floor.

_ Jesus _ ,  _ Mary _ , and  _ Joseph _ .

His throat burned as he gasped for air, his stomach forcefully expelling whatever was in it.

The noise attracted the attention of his caretaker (?), and they ran into the room.

“Jason?”

Since he was, you know, kinda vomiting out his guts, Jason wasn’t fully there. Mentally, of course. The poor hardwood floor looked expensive too.

Once he had stopped throwing up his lunch (chicken alfredo did not taste so good on the way up) from the day before and began dry-heaving instead, the person who had dragged him here (wherever he was) revealed themselves.

“Di- _ i _ -ck?” Jason felt even worse as he stepped away from his vomit. 

He was never eating chicken alfredo ever again. Never. 

He’d forgiven his...brother (and wasn’t that Jason’s  _ favorite _ word, along with father), a while ago but Bruce?

_ Hell _ no.

The thought of Bruce made his head spin even more than it was now.

“The bathroom is right there,” He pointed at a door, covered with chipping white paint. For some reason, that felt like a slight.

Jason groaned before dragging himself to the bathroom, his brain vibrating with every step. The room looked better inside as Jason stripped his clothes.

The whole (okay, maybe not the  _ entire _ ) situation reminded him of his time in Wayne Manor. Jason was a pretty sick child and he would throw up in his sleep a lot more than what was normal.

Nightmares. 

Something that every member of his hodgepodge adoptive family had their fair share of.

He turned the shower on, cold water falling down. What did he expect from Blüdhaven? Huffing, he took the shampoo from the shower caddy.

It was fine. Everything was  _ fine _ .

Lost in thought, Jason didn’t hear the door open until something clatter and he jumped, dropping the bottle.

“Oh...sorry.” A nervous chuckle. 

“What?” Jason asked over the rush of water.

“S’ just clothes. Some that’ll fit you better, hopefully. Oh, and a, uh, toothbrush.” And after that Dick left, shutting the door noisily.

Interesting. He was comfortable enough to come into the bathroom while Jason was butt-ass naked but not enough to hold a conversation. 

Jason sighed and rested his head against the stark white (and surprisingly clean) tile of the shower.

After he finished his shower, put on the clothes (that  _ did _ fit him better), and brushed his teeth, Jason crept back into the living room only to be bombarded by the 5 foot 9-inch terror that was Dick Grayson.

Dick had cleaned up his...mess (God, Jason was never going to get over that but he  _ was  _ sick, sue him) while he was showering. 

It smelt like PineSol. He wasn’t partial to that scent.

Jason sat on the couch and shut his eyes to maybe pretend that he wasn’t forced into this situation. 

Footsteps followed by him and Jason opened his eyes slowly.

Dick didn’t say anything and just handed him the glass of water he had asked for beforehand.

God, here came the feelings.

He sat in a chair adjacent to the couch Jason was sitting on and clasped his hands together. The grim look on his face did nothing to calm Jason.

“I, uh, found you on the sidewalk during patrol, practically half-dead and bleeding out. You had a head injury and were so cold, it was like I was- like I was holding a corpse.” Dick audibly gulped.

“I mean, technically…”

Dick shut him up with a look.

Jason’s irritation flared but then was soothed by the fact that Dick didn’t have to help him. He did it on his own sappy terms.

_Good_ _god_.

“And, I couldn’t bring you to a-”

“Hospital. According to the state, I’m deceased. Yeah, I know.” Jason said forcefully. He finished off the glass and sat the glass on the coffee table. 

The two hadn’t talked in nearly 2 years, not including when Jason was, well, dead, so an awkward silence filled the room. Jason cleared his throat.

“Do you hav-”

“I missed you. So much.” And Dick looked at Jason with so much love in his eyes, it nearly made Jason sick.

Again. 

Jason scoffed at the sight. He hadn’t missed Dick. He hadn’t missed any of this, at all. 

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to say so... Because then he would be lying. He instead averted his eyes to the ceiling, to the disappointment of Dick.

“You have something to eat?” Jason slouched on the couch, feeling his stomach rumble. “Other than your shitty diabetes chow?”

Dick snorted and things felt normal for just a second before it faded.

“I have eggs, I think?”

Jason said nothing and yet he filled the silence loudly with his gaze.

Dick winced. “I could go to the store? Soup?”

“That’s fine. Fruit would be nice, too.” Jason didn’t look at him and if he had to, it would only be to silently stare. 

Jason was tolerating his ‘brother’ for the time being until he could actually function by himself. He never liked to be cared for, it made him feel...weak.

And he  _ hated _ that feeling.

Dick sent him a small yet genuine smile before picking up his keys and leaving, shutting the door thoughtfully. Jason tried to stand up, only to be hit with a wall of dizziness.

Waves of nausea rolled over Jason once again and he took a deep breath before moving toward the window, dragging the blanket he had used earlier with him. He pulled the window open.

The fire escape looked stable enough, so Jason shrugged and climbed out the window and sat on the platform.

It was decently cold and the sun was rising behind the tall, grey buildings of Blüdhaven, giving the city a surely temporary image of serenity.

A few cars whizzed by on the road, going so fast that you could still hear them after they were long gone.

Jason took in deep breaths of the fresh air, the wind lightly blowing. 

It was beautiful, peaceful.

Jason wished it would always feel like that, eclipsing calm and quiet.

Blüdhaven rivaled Gotham at this time of day, the sister cities not being called that for no reason. 

Jason had seen Gotham’s beauty several times, he swore it. 5 years ago.

He wondered if he could see it, just one more time.


End file.
